


Preen

by boxparade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Somnophilia, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxparade/pseuds/boxparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I tried, okay? *hides in shame*</p><p>((and thanks always for the beta, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/xsista">linds</a>))</p>
    </blockquote>





	Preen

**Author's Note:**

> I tried, okay? *hides in shame*
> 
> ((and thanks always for the beta, [linds](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xsista)))

Dean wakes up hard with a hand on his cock, but he cottons on quick enough to keep on pretending he’s asleep. He knows Cas has a thing for this, waking him up with soft, sure touches and peppered kisses, in the early morning hours when everything is warm and softly lit.

Cas strokes his cock a few more times, Dean fully hard and still halfway in dreamland. He feels Cas pull away, then shuffle carefully across the bed. Dean floats, breathing deep and steady, pleasure flowing through his body. When Cas touches him again, his fingers are cold and slick, one leading a trail down his hip. Cas uses his other hand to roll Dean onto his stomach, and Dean is careful not to go with it, still feigning sleep. Cas’s finger trails down the cleft of his ass until he’s pressed up against Dean’s entrance, and with a sigh, he slides in.

Dean, maybe a bit more asleep than he’d thought, mumbles something unintelligible and move his hips incrementally. Cas slows, keeping his finger inside Dean as he leans over his back. His breath ghosts hotly on Dean’s ear. “Dean,” he whispers. He sounds like he’s purring.

“Mm,” is all he manages to get out.

Cas crooks his finger and a jolt of _morepleasemore_ rushes through him, tingling as it settles.

“Good morning.”

Cocky bastard.

“What time’zit?”

“Early,” Cas says. He starts working his finger in and out, torturously slow. “We’ve got time.”

Dean presses his hips up, searching for more. He doesn’t care how much time they have, Cas needs to pick up the pace.

“More.”

Cas obliges, adding a second finger to the first, pressing in deeper with each slide in. Dean hasn’t gotten this much prep in a while, and by now has managed to use Cas’s name to say a lot of things, but his favorite use is probably still his “fuck me now” Cas, which is the one he’s using now. _“Cas.”_

Instead, Cas adds a third finger and twists. Dean’s hips jump off the bed and he moans, burying his face in the pillow. Cas keeps working him open, crooking his fingers on every other thrust, and Dean has to force back a needy whine.

“Please,” he growls, between one thrust and the next. Cas pulls out and for a second and isn’t touching Dean anywhere. But then a hot hand grabs his hip and pulls up until Dean can feel the top of Cas’s cock pressing, slick and hard and hot. Dean _wants._

Cas hovers a moment, everything still and teetering just on the edge, and then he pushes in with one steady thrust. Dean’s breath leaves his body. He gasps, drawing in air, and curls his fingers into the sheets. Every time, it’s like he’s forgotten. Jesus Christ.

They both stall, breathing in fast and deep, until Dean gets impatient and pulls his hips away, Cas sliding out of him.

Cas leans forward, curving to mold against Dean’s back, and pushes back inside. He sets the pace slow at first, knowing it’ll get Dean all riled up and begging. No matter how many times Dean tells him to “hurry up and fuck me” Cas just keeps on. Probably because he knows Dean wants him to, no matter what he says. Which makes it that much hotter when he breaks pattern and fucks Dean into the mattress without restraint.

Cas’s arms snake around Dean’s middle, holding him steady as he shifts his angle. Dean moans appreciatively; Cas’s cock is grinding up against his prostate, and Cas seems to be getting close because he doubles the rhythm. Dean rocks back against him, their skin slapping together. Dean is letting out tiny sounds with every thrust. “Cas, I need—”

“I know.” Cas thrusts in a few more times before reaching his hand up to wrap around Dean, pulling in time with their movements, running his thumb over the head just often enough to drive Dean crazy. His entire body coils, tightening, and he barely has time to draw a breath before he bites down on his lip and comes.

He comes back online just in time to feel Cas drive into him and come, both of them collapsing. Cas slides out of Dean but doesn’t make a move to get off of him, his weight comforting and familiar.

Dean’s drifting, almost back to sleep when his brain suddenly decides to fire up another cylinder.

“Work?”

Cas hums. Helpful.

Dean shifts his head to look at the clock. Seven twenty-nine. The lying bastard said they had time. Damn it, they need to get up.

“Cas.” No response. “Cas. Get off’a me.” Dean rolls over with enough force to send Cas to the other side of the bed with a groan. Dean plies himself up from the sheets, looking down at the wet spot with disdain. No time to do much about it now. He’ll have to change the sheets when he gets home.

Cas sits up and glares at Dean. Dean points a finger at his face.

“This is your fault. You said it was early. We’re gonna be late.”

“No, Dean, _you_ are going to be late because _you_ preen for half an hour.”

“Do not,” he says childishly.

Cas sighs and gets up, closing himself in the bathroom before Dean can claim it. Dean _does not_ preen.

“We’d both be on time if she showered together!” Dean yells through the door, even though that’s a blatant lie and they both know it. If he’s gonna be late, he might as well make it twice as worth it. Cas responds by locking the door and turning on the shower. “Jerk.”

He pads out into the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal while he waits for Cas to hurry the fuck up. They need a bigger water heater. One that supports both showers running at the same time.

He gets through the sports section and the funnies before he hears the shower turn off, so he leaves the paper on the table and throws his bowl in the sink. He’s just approached the door when it swings open, Cas rubbing a towel into his hair with one hand, stark naked. He looks at Dean curiously, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrows in quiet judgment.

Cas brushes past him without a word and Dean steps into the bathroom and turns back around. “You know, if you waited for me we’d both be late, and then I wouldn’t have Hendrickson riding my ass all the time.”

“You wouldn’t have me riding your ass, either,” Cas says flippantly as he walks out of the bedroom.

Dean rolls his eyes at the innuendo and shouts back “I don’t know why I ever married you!” He shuts the door to the bathroom and grabs his toothbrush.

“We’re not married!” He hears Cas’s voice carry from somewhere else in the house.

“Semantics!” Dean shouts back, smiling and shoving a toothbrush into his mouth. If he hurries, Cas might still be here when he gets out.

He isn’t, of course. He took the paper and is probably already at FBI headquarters, bitching with the others about Dean and his tendency to disregard the schedule. The dark side of working with your spouse. Sort of. Besides, he’s only late half the time, and at least a quarter of that is Cas’s fault.

Dean runs a hand through his hair, giving himself a final look-over in the mirror before he throws on his leather jacket and hops into the impala.

Cas may be the golden boy in Victor’s eyes, but he’s still wrong about one thing.

Dean does not _preen._


End file.
